


Candlelight

by Overanalyzer



Series: How About A Little Fire, Scarecrow? [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bondage, Cock Cages, Dom/sub, M/M, Silence Kink, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overanalyzer/pseuds/Overanalyzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The augur and the repair boy, spending a night together. Unabashed smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a sort of "three times" fic revolving around different Octavian pairings, slowly got overtaken by Leotavian as the day wore on, and eventually turned into what you see before you. You can probably blame [anemicloser](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anemicloser/pseuds/anemicloser) for that.

Drip by drip, the wax fell.

Drip by drip, he lost his mind.

To anyone outside this room, the situation inside would have sounded absurd.

_"Octavian?" they would say, incredulous, "Centurion of the First Cohort, Augur of the Twelfth Legion, all-around superior son of a bitch, letting himself get tied up by some loud-mouthed_ graecus? _Letting him do such obscene things? Yeah, right, pull the other one!"_

It was ridiculous. Totally unbelievable.

But here he was: Spread-eagle, limbs bound, cock caged, with one Leo Valdez kneeling over him, candle in hand.

He whimpered as another trickle of wax descended, his left pectoral twitching under the assault. His mouth was uncovered, much to his chagrin. He said nothing, though. Not one syllable.

_"A little test,"_ Leo had said grinning. _"Say one word and I stop."_

Octavian's words had always been his power, and right now he was cursing them to the depths of Tartarus.

He could feel the wax trickling onto his chest in meaningless patterns, almost hot enough enough to burn him. They'd spent quite a lot of time figuring this out; what kind of candle to use, how far away to hold it. Octavian hadn't wanted it to _hurt_ as such, and Leo had taken quite a bit of convincing to consider going even this far.

Not that you'd know it to see him now. Leo was not a cruel man, but he could damn sure act the part sometimes.

Not that Octavian _could_ see him, mind you. His mouth may have be free, but his eyes were covered by a strip of cloth. He was forced to rely on what he could hear.

And what he could feel.

Leo's fingertips danced over Octavian's flesh, always a few moments ahead of the wax. A warning, or a tease; Octavian wasn't quite sure.

"You know," Leo's voice is deeper than usual, the lust plain to hear, "I kinda like you quiet."

And Octavian could _feel_ the retort in his chest, and he honestly felt like he deserved a goddamn medal for holding back, allowing a wordless whine to take its place.

"Well, OK, not _quiet_ ," Leo amended, "but not talking. Close enough." And, _oh gods_ , there were fingers running across the cage. Wax pouring onto his thighs. It was almost too much. The sounds coming out of him didn't even sound human any more.

Then Leo's fingers were resting against the cage's clasp (Leo had been firmly against any sort of actual lock), and Octavian went as quiet as a church mouse. Every breath measured and silent. There was no more teasing, no more wax; Octavian's entire world shrank down to those fingertips on that clasp. Leo didn't say a thing, but Octavian could still _hear_ the indulgent smirk on his face.

And the *click* as the clasp was undone.

The augur was pretty sure he set a speed record for world's fastest erection.

This sudden freedom was no mercy, however. Leo didn't say a word, but Octavian knew better than to come yet, even as the bindings around his ankles were undone.

Even as fingers worked their way into his ass.

Just as a public service announcement: If you have never experienced the fingers of someone whose work requires delicacy and precision? Octavian could not recommend it highly enough. Particularly if those fingers were attached to someone who was equal parts loving and (when called for) sadistic.

Leo often hummed as he worked, no matter what form that work took; random bits of melody to accompany the assembly of an engine as easily as the torture of an arrogant Roman's prostate. To Octavian, it was the sweetest sound in the world, and the cruelest.

Later, if asked, Octavian would be unable to say with certainty just how many songs he heard from the Latino in those moments. He recognized "The Stranger" by Billy Joel, and "Once Upon A Dream" from Sleeping Beauty, as well as what he was pretty sure was Gin Wigmore's "Hey Ho", but everything else was a blur. A slow, torturous, pleasurable blur.

All good things must come to an end, though. If only to make way for _better_ things.

Like one's boyfriend's cock, pressing, unhesitatingly into one's asshole.

Octavian bore this intrusion, like many of Leo's other actions throughout their relationship, with clenched teeth and a frustrated moan. It didn't hurt. Leo was too careful, too _caring_ , to allow that. But it did, fittingly, _burn_ ; a low, hot feeling that surged through every part of the roman. Leo knew that Octavian had no patience for taking things slow, so it gave him a perverse thrill to do just that. He buried himself in the blond by the millimeter, savoring the frustration of the man beneath him.

Octavian felt hands on his right wrist as Leo finally bottomed out within him, and struggled not to respond. They were so close now, _so close_ , he wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize it... The rope around his arms came undone, one and then the other, and still he remained stoic, both of those arms still stretched out.

And then they were there, nimble fingers undoing the knot at the back of his head. His reward. The cloth fell away from his eyes, Leo's flushed face filling his sight. The game was over, and he'd _won_.

His arms and legs curled around his lover, mouths crashed together, and the thrusting of hips brought the two to completion.

When he came back to himself, Leo was laying at his side, and his right arm was sort of numb from the weight, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He pressed his lips to Leo's again, just because he wanted to. His love was backlit by the candle, burning quite low by now,

"Good?" the other asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Octavian smiled as well, as he ran his fingers through curly brown hair.

"The best."

**Author's Note:**

> Not apart of the "Ill-adivised Sexual Exploits" series because they actually love each other, no matter how counter-intuitive that may sound.


End file.
